


Today

by cunning_capra



Series: Over the Years [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Makoto finally gets her birthday, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunning_capra/pseuds/cunning_capra
Summary: “That's very mysterious of you,” She says archly, “And a very bold statement for someone who seems to have forgotten- my birthday is today.”Sequel to "Next Month" - Set a year after the game
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Niijima Makoto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Over the Years [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716193
Kudos: 26





	Today

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't finished Royal (yet!!!) so still original canon compliant.  
> But I'm back on my P5 bullshit, baby!!!!
> 
> (this was very hastily written w/ no edits --- we die like men RIP)

“We can go for your birthday,” Ren says, offhandedly. 

She looks up from her textbook.

He's standing at the sink, and the sound of rushing water and clinking dishes fills the empty restaurant. Sojiro had left the moment Makoto had stepped in through the door , rolling his eyes and waving off her apologies. 

“Might as well live here yourself,” He had scoffed once, when Makoto had shown up maybe one too many nights in a row. Ren had spilled a mug of coffee down his front in response.

Heat rises to her cheeks at the memory, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to ground herself.

“We can go where?” She asks, watching him wipe his hands on his apron. His hair is pushed out of his eyes, and they have a wild glint to them as he turns to glance over his shoulder and smiles.

It never fails to do something to her heart – a swoop of genuine affection with that dose of nerves that still chases every moment with him. A year apart would do that, she supposes, even with summer and winter vacations, lots of texting and a generous amount of stolen kisses.

He's gesturing to the TV, which she'd honestly been blocking out until this moment, satisfied to watch him work, so she turns now, grabbing the remote to try and listen in on the tail end of whatever the segment is. 

“A new restaurant,” he says, pulling at his apron strings and dragging the collar over his neck. His shirt rides up, and Makoto knows she's allowed to look, knows that they're dating and its normal, but still averts her eyes, fingers drumming over the counter, picking out a staccato that isn't unlike the thrum of her heart, “Don't worry about it, you'll find out soon enough.”

Ren leans over the counter, looking all too pleased with himself, smirk spread wide across his face.

“That's very mysterious of you,” She says archly, “And a very bold statement for someone who seems to have forgotten- my birthday is today.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous, something that he hadn't allowed himself even last year. She remembers her first glimpse of Ren with regret – hunched shoulders, thick rimmed glasses. He had been trying to make himself as small as possible when she had first she'd seem him studying in the library. But now he smiles widely, and his eyes absolutely glow with affection.

She doesn't deserve him.

Maybe she never will.

He stands, and comes around to her side of the counter, tipping her chin up with a finger and pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek. He pauses at her ear, and laughs again, breathy and soft.

“Let me posit a hypothetical, “ he says, against the shell of her ear, kissing her there before drawing away, eyes soft, “Let's say I had a reservation for dinner tonight – would you want to go?”

“T-there's that charm of yours,” she manages to bite out, taking a deep breath. Then another. Her face is probably beet red and her hands are trembling.

He's always had this effect on her, and at this rate it seemed like he always would. When they were forty, eighty, would he still make her heart race, and words fail? Would he still be the center of her world, the threads that kept her together?

“Futaba says I have my charisma maxed out,” He says smugly, and she sighs as she leans into him, letting him card his hands through her hair. She closes her eyes.

“I would've been fine with dinner at home.”

He pulls away from their loose embrace, and looks down at her, gaze unreadable. He swallows hard, fingers tracing her jaw. 

A thrill runs up her spine. Home. With Ren. With their own room and own bed where they would wake up every morning and go to sleep every night. Together. 

Even if it had been on her mind longer than she cared to admit, she can't believe that slipped out of her mouth. 

“I meant dinner here,” She amends quietly, eyes flickering to his mouth.

He chuckles, and bridges the gap, leaning down to meet her halfway, humming against her lips as his mouth finds hers.

The kiss is slow, and languid – her hand finds his hip, Ren braces himself against the counter. He tastes like coffee and something spicy. They are unhurried and tender, and she gasps when he deepens the kiss. 

“I'd love to go out,” She says, softly, earnestly when they pull apart for air, “I love you.”

She could never have imagined this for herself, ten years ago. A year ago. The brush of his mouth against hers, the way he treated her like something precious. The unspoken promise of a future.

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of her mouth sweetly, “Happy birthday, Makoto.”


End file.
